<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>If Anybody Ask It by Thunder_Cakes</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050949">If Anybody Ask It</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes'>Thunder_Cakes</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Honeymoon, M/M, Sam is a nerd, SamSteve Vacation Week, Steve just wants to see the fjords</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:53:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25050949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Steve are hot shit. People notice. Too bad they're taken.</p><p> <i>If anybody ask it<br/>I'm taken<br/>If anybody wants to know<br/>He is too</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SamSteve Vacation Week</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If Anybody Ask It</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title from "Taken" by Haley Williams.</p><p>Okay so... my French is rusty and it was bad to begin with. Please direct all complaints to google translate and my college professor who gave me a pity pass. </p><p>unbeta'd because I am impatient and wanted to post this immediately. I also haven't had any sleep so here's hoping its legible</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Drinking alone in a Norwegian bar isn’t exactly something Steve had on his bucket list, but he can’t say he regrets it. The atmosphere is relaxed, the music is fun and the people have been incredibly friendly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve nods along as the fellow tourist wraps up his story about backpacking across Scandinavia. It’s not the most entertaining tale, but the man is amicable enough. Steve gets the impression Pietro is trying to impress him, so he makes sure to ooh and ahh at all the appropriate times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So!” Pietro sighs as he takes a swig of his third pint of lager. “That’s my life story. What brings you to Oslo?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m on my honeymoon,” Steve grins. He doesn’t miss the slight twitch of Pietro’s eye, though he chooses to ignore it. “My husband promised to show me the fjords years ago and now he’s making good. We’re headed for the Nærøyfjord tomorrow!” It’s been over a week and Steve still isn’t over the little thrill he feels every time he says “my husband.” He hopes it never goes away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pietro nods slowly, seeming to shake himself before he answers. “That’s nice.” He doesn’t make it sound all that nice. “Where’s your husband then? Aren’t marrieds supposed to be attached at the hip?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs lightly, ignoring the small slight. “He’s at the Viking Ship Museum. It’s not really my scene but he was excited.” No reason to mention that he had a small flare up and decided to save some spoons for tomorrow. Sam had tried to stay with him, but Steve practically shoved him out of the door, knowing how much Sam wanted to spend the day looking at giant boats. Steve can’t say he’s sad to miss out. “He should be meeting me here soon, actually.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Pietro clears his throat. “Well, I’m going to check in on my friends, but bring your guy over when he gets here! I’d love to meet him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Steve hums, not agreeing to anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pietro heads across the room and Steve turns back to his drink and open notebook. He sketches for a few minutes before a twinge in his back makes him shift uncomfortably in his seat. He rolls his shoulders, wincing at the pain reverberates down his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another seltz-- hey, you okay there?” the bartender asks him, placing Steve’s refill on the bar between them. Steve looks up, surprised at the large man hovering behind the bar. The muscles straining against his shirt seem threatening at first, but the concern in his eyes is genuine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve grimaces but nods his head. “Yeah, just sat still for too long.” He shifts again and sighs when he finds a somewhat comfortable position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like a chair with a cushion?” the bartender offers. His gaze bounces from Steve’s eyes to the curve of his lips and back. He leans in over the bar and lowers his voice as if revealing a secret. “We keep the good ones in the back for private parties.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! No thank you… Thor,” Steve adds, squinting to read Thor’s name tag. “I appreciate the offer but I shouldn’t be much longer. My husband is on his way.” There’s that little thrill again. Steve smiles at the feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thor nods, straightening up and reaching for something behind the counter. “Okay. Just let me know if you need anything.” He sets a fresh glass of ice water in front of Steve and smiles as he moves on to another customer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve sips at the water gratefully. The bracing cold is a minimal but effective distraction from the pain in his back. He sets the glass down and looks back to his sketchbook. He’s got the general outline of the bottles lining the mirrored wall behind the bar but is hesitant to dive into the details without his glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he turns back to the scene, he’s surprised to meet the eye of a sharp looking woman in the mirror. He’d noticed her before, she’s hard to miss in her striking black bodysuit and slicked back hair. She raises a manicured eyebrow at him and smiles like she has a thousand secrets to tell him. Steve feels the blood rushing to his face and glances away. When he works up the courage to look back, she tips her tumblr of whisky at him and nods at his own glass on the bar. It's an offer, an invitation. Steve’s brain stutters a bit, but he shakes his head demurely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind the bar Thor snorts, drying a glass and glancing between the two of them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Han er gift, Hela</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s eyes zero in on Steve’s left hand. Steve wiggles his ring finger, smiling brightly with an apologetic shrug. Hela nods, tips her glass as if in a toast and turns as if to find another option for the night. Thor winks at Steve before he’s called to the other end of the bar by a new customer. Steve clears his throat and takes another sip of water, flustered by the attention. He feels strangely popular this evening. Unfortunately, it’s not with the one person he wants to see right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve peeks at his phone, wondering if he should text Sam to check in. It’s not like Sam to be late and he’s not the type to get lost. Steve tends to be the wandering artist in the relationship. Just as he reaches for it, there’s a commotion at the bar’s door as a large group comes barging, laughing loudly and chattering in multiple languages. Steve glances over instinctively, intending to ignore them until he recognizes one of the faces in the middle of the crowd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s his husband, standing on his toes and looking around somewhat frantically, supposedly for Steve. Sam is in the midst of the chaos working its way through the room, being swept around by the crowd while he’s not paying attention. Steve starts to wave when he sees the two women swarming Sam in particular. One of them places a hand on his arm and another on her chest as she laughs, trying to bring him back into the conversation. The other eyes him up and down thoughtfully while he’s looking the other way. Neither are particularly subtle, but it's not like Steve can blame them. Who wouldn’t try and take their chance with Sam. Sam who seems to barely notice them, casually shrugging off the hand and smiling politely as he continues to look around. Finally, their eyes meet across the room and Steve grins at the relief that flashes across Sam’s face. Sam waves him over, glancing at the hold one of the women has on his arm and grimacing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve snickers, gathering his things and dropping cash on the bar, including a huge tip for Thor. He makes his way to the tables Sam’s group has commandeered. Sam reaches for him as he nears, pulling Steve closer than they’d usually stand in public. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve!” he beams, dipping his head to drop a kiss on Steve’s lips. “There you are darlin’.” His southern drawl is thick with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, hun. How was the museum?” Steve’s smile shines back at him. He can feel himself lighting up and Sam’s presence. Everything just feels easier when he’s at Sam’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was fun! Learned lots of new facts to bore you with on the ride to the fjords. And I made all these new friends on the tour! We think the only language we all have in common is French and I’m uh, rusty.”  He turns to the group, wrapping his arm low around Steve’s hips. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mes amis. C’est Steve, mon garçon.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few in the group titter while the others just look confused. The two women who were paying Sam such </span>
  <em>
    <span>special </span>
  </em>
  <span>attention eye Steve suspiciously. Steve snorts, and tucks the information a way for later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told them I was coming here to meet my husband and they decided to come along for a drink!” There's a wild look in his eye that Steve recognizes from Sam’s longer project meetings with Tony. Sam is at the end of his rope and he needs </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even so, Steve feels a little flutter hearing Sam call him that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve winks at him and waves at the group. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Salut! Enchanté. Nous allons prendre des boissons.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He tugs on Sam’s hand, leading him to the bar. He hops onto one of the stools, waiting for Thor to notice them between customers. Sam crowds up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve and burying his nose in his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank God your French is better than mine. I had no idea how to get out of that. Gamora and Nebula are nice but I could barely follow the conversation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs, patting one of Sam’s hands. “My French is passable. Yours is… stick to the Germanic languages.” Sam snorts but doesn’t argue. “We’ll have one drink and then I’ll yawn and you can insist on taking me back to the hotel.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam presses a kiss behind one of his ears and runs a hand down Steve’s side. “How’s your back?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down to an ache, a three at most.” Steve waves it off. “The worst has passed.” He turns on the stool, meeting Sam’s eye to assure him that he’s okay. Sam nods, dropping another kiss on Steve’s forehead. He learned very quickly to trust Steve’s assessment of his own body. He never asks twice or if Steve’s sure. It’s one of the many reasons Steve married him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shifts his weight and Steve catches one of the women from before watching them. Steve wonders whether she’s Gamora or Nebula. Either way, she’s insistent. She stands and walks towards the bar, not bothering to hide the way she’s checking Sam out. Huh. Seems like he’s not made things clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans in and places a sloppy kiss on Sam’s neck, reveling in the way Sam shudders and grips his hips a little tighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.” Sam’s voice is thick, his tone warning. “I thought you wanted a drink.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck a drink. I want you,” Steve whispers, running a hand down Sam’s back and tugging on one of his belt loops. “It’s been almost 12 hours since I’ve had you inside me. Let’s fix that.” A growl rips through Sam’s chest as he scoops Steve off the stool, always careful of his back, and almost runs into either Gamora or Nebula, Steve’s still not sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Sam huffs, looking anything but. “We need to go. Um, nous allons uhhh,” he stumbled over his words, probably distracted by Steve’s hand in the back of his pants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve smiles friendlily. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nous quittons. Bonne nuit.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He leans around her to wave at the others. The couple who notice wave back, but Steve barely notices as Sam practically carries him out of the bar. The cool air of the street slows them down, forcing them to duck their heads against flurries of snow. Steve leans into Sam’s warmth, tucking his hand into Sam’s back pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam huffs. “Not a subtle bone in your body, is there Rogers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Never when it comes to you, Wilson. You’re taken,” Steve quips.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours later, Steve is starfished on their hotel bed, Sam is half laying on his chest, dozing lightly. Steve is running his fingers up and down Sam’s spine when he remembers. “Sammy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam presses a kiss to Steve’s shoulder, “Yes dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Garçon means boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told your museum friends that I’m your boy.” Steve is giggling now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a long pause as Sam processes this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh God,” he groans, burying his face deeper into Steve’s chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve laughs loudly. “They probably thought I was your son--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would I be meeting my son at a bar,” Sam whines</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-- up until you pulled me over and kissed me,’ Steve finishes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam is silent for a moment. “They definitely thought I was you sugar daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Steve hums. “Aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam pinches him, making him giggle again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How else could a starving artist like me afford such a lofty trip to Europe, hmmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, so you married up. That’s not news.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s Steve’s turn to pinch his husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Steve, not the butt!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s some more playful fumbling that ends in Steve face down on the bed, head tucked under a pillow and his forearm thrown across Sam’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really, Steve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ssshh! Go to sleep. We have an early morning tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Steve.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fjords, Sammy. We’re not missing that train.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, dear.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this one was supposed to stay under 1k lol they just kept talking good God </p><p>The SamSteve Vacation Week collection is gold and feeding my soul rn. Check it out!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>